


Something Quite Atrocious

by TheVioletSunflower



Category: Mary Poppins (1964)
Genre: Bert just has to play along, it's all in Mary's head, mental health
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-04-15
Packaged: 2018-01-10 02:38:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1153777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheVioletSunflower/pseuds/TheVioletSunflower
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Over the years, Bert has grown accustomed to Mary's habit of suddenly appearing out of nowhere and telling wild tales. But this time it's different. This time she seems to think she has a job as a nanny of two children by the names of Jane and Michael Banks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Overture

The woman arrived on Cherry Tree Lane at precisely five o'clock in the afternoon. Bert saw her approach from the park across the street, and his heart was filled with an all-too-familiar sense of excitement and dread.  
Mary.  
It was Mary. Mary with her dark brown hair tied back into a tight bun under a ragged hat. Mary clutching a carpet bag which was almost more holes than bag. Mary holding a large black umbrella high above her head despite the rain-free skies. Her coat was more tattered than he had last seen it, and her shoes were almost falling apart, but it was definitely her.  
Mary was back.  
Bert wanted so much to go to her, to wrap his arms around her and to tell her that he was there, that he loved her, that she was safe, and wouldn’t she please just stay with him this time instead of running off. He wanted to make her see that he understood her better than anyone else, that they ought to be together, that as difficult as it was to care for her it was worse to see her go. He wanted to do all this and more, but he knew from past experience that he could not. There was no knowing what Mary’s reasons were for returning and until he did he could not guess how she would act towards him, or even if she would recognize him. In the past, he had tried to explain it to her, to tell her that it was all in her head, that none of it was real, but it had only made her angry. No, he couldn’t say anything. The only way to be near to her, the only way to protect her, was to insert himself into whatever fantasy she had created for herself this time.  
He watched as she walked purposefully up to the boarded up and abandoned house at number seventeen and pulled sharply on the broken bell-chain. After a moment, she opened the door to the house and walked inside as if the empty house were her own, closing the door firmly behind her.  
Now this was different. Usually when she came to town, she slept in the park somewhere or perhaps an alley. She had never taken over an entire house before. He wondered why she thought she was here this time. Whatever it was, it must be strong to make her take a whole house. Bert would have to be extra careful this time. He couldn't risk another incident.  
Through an upstairs window, Bert could see her pulling things out of her carpet bag. A broken mirror, an old tape measure, a piece of paper which looked tattered and worn, as if it had been fished out of a garbage can. On further thought, that didn't seem entirely impossible.  
The paper was probably key. It must have triggered something that made her suddenly feel the need to come. If he could find some way to get a look at it, he might be able to discover why she had come this time. Maybe he could make her see for herself. Maybe she would stay.  
Mary.  
His Mary.  
He just hoped he could manage it again.


	2. Pavement Artist

When Mary didn't leave number seventeen in the next hour, Bert stopped watching the house and returned to his work. Today, that work was drawing in coloured chalk on the pavement outside the park with a cap out beside him in hopes of collecting the change of a generous passer-by. So far, he had a pound twenty to show for his day's work. It was enough to buy a meal, but there would be none left over to save in his sock so he could buy a new pair of shoes, or at least fix the holes in the old ones. Still, a bowl of soup and a cup of coffee was better than a finger in the eye, and if he kept at it perhaps he could earn a little more yet.  
He was so absorbed in his work that he didn't even notice her approach until her shadow fell across his drawing.  
Bert smiled to himself. If she was approaching him, that was a good sign. Did she know who he was? Bert decided to take a chance.  
"I'd know that silhouette anywhere," he said rising from the hard ground. "Mary Poppins!"  
To his immense relief, Mary smiled brightly. "It's nice to see you again, Bert. I expect you know Jane an Michael?" She gestured to her left and down from eye level. Children, then. Children he was supposed to know, so presumably they lived at number seventeen? Was Mary a nanny this time? Unwilling to commit himself to knowing a pair of imaginary children he'd just met, Bert thought quickly.  
"Well, I see them here and about," and when this answer didn't seem to satisfy Mary, "chasing a kite last time, wasn't it?"  
Apparently happy with his answer, Mary explained that she and the children were on an outing to the park.  
"To the park! Not if I know Mary Poppins!" The words were out of his mouth before he had a chance to think. The park was so ordinary. So boring. So utterly unlike everything he had come to expect from Mary. Not to mention that it didn't require his presence, and he had missed Mary so much. But now because he had been stupid enough to contradict her, he would have to risk everything or lose it all. It was too late to skip around her fantasy and avoid particulars. His only chance to keep her close enough to protect would be to jump right inside her world and manipulate it around what he had already said. He had to hope his nanny analysis was correct.  
He leaned down to speak directly to the place Mary had indicated when speaking about the children. "Other nannies take children to the park." When she didn't refute this, he went on. "When you're with Mary Poppins, suddenly you're in places you've never dreamed of. And quick as you can say "Bob's your uncle," the most unusual things begin to happen."  
"I'm sure I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about."  
Bert's heart leapt into his throat. She was rejecting his additions. He knew from previous experience that everything rested on his next words. If he said something wrong, best case scenario she would run away and it would be months before he saw her again. He didn't even want to think about the worst case scenario.  
He had two options. He could back off, laughing and saying it was all a joke. Then she would roll her eyes and go off into the park with her children and he would follow her to make sure she stayed out of trouble but be unable to actually talk to her. Or he could risk it all.  
"Well mind, it's not my place to say, but what she's probably got in mind, is a jolly holiday somewhere or other," he said, still addressing the invisible children at Mary's side, partially to keep up appearaces, partially to avoid looking her in the eyes as he improvised. "Something along these lines, I shouldn't be surprised."  
Bert gestured to one of the pictures on the sidewalk, which bore the caption "Punting on the Thames." It was a favorite pass-time of Mary's when she and Bert were together. "That's always good if you like an outing."  
His nerves and excitement getting the better of him, he started miming standing on the graceful boats, drawing it through the water with a long pole while Mary sat behind him and laughed at the expression on his face. But the Mary here and now was not laughing. She was looking at him sternly, glancing between him and the place where he presumed she imagined the children to be, as if asking him to set a good example.  
He quickly stopped miming boats and suggested a circus, full of lions and tigers and brave people performing death-defying feats. He walked a crack in the pavement as if it were a tightrope, figuring that her thinking of him as a bad example for the children was preferable to her not thinking of him in the same world as the children at all.  
His enthusiastic endorsement of the circus and heroic tightrope walk were met with a sarcastic clap from Mary. Still, she was warming up to him and showed no sign that she would be running any time soon. In fact, she was starting to look interested in one of the drawings.  
Bert looked at it and smiled. "Beautiful, ain't it? A typical English countryside, as done by a true and loving hand. Though you can't see it, there's a little country fair down that road and over the hill." Maybe not the most exciting destination, but if that's what it took to get Mary to join him, he would happily do it.  
"Bert," Mary said, "Michael's right. There's no road in the picture."  
"What? No road?" Bert quickly knelt by the picture and drew in a winding road. "There," he announced when he'd finished. "A country road suitable for travel and high adventure."  
After a long silence, Bert muttered, "Now's the time, Mary Poppins. No one's looking."  
Mary's head snapped up and she all but glared at him. "I have no intention of making a spectacle of myself, thank you," she snapped.  
It was all Bert could do to stop himself from flinching. Could he have misread the situation? Maybe Mary was starting to settle down. Maybe their days of skipping about the park were over. "All right," he muttered, "I'll do it myself."  
"Do what?"  
He hadn't intended for Mary to hear. With no time to think, he found himself saying, "a bit of magic."  
"A bit of magic?"  
He was as surprised by the answer as she was, but there was no point in changing it now. "It's easy," he said, reaching for what he desperately hoped were the hands of her young charges, Jane and Michael had she called them? "Let's see..." His mind was racing. "You think. You wink. You do a double blink. You close your eyes and jump." He jumped onto the picture Mary had been looking at and then glanced at her face, searching for the delight it always showed when she got swept off into some fantasy land he was always only a small part of.  
The expression on her face, however, was about as far from joy as possible. She looked a bit upset and exasperated.  
"Bert, what utter nonsense!" she cried, and Bert tried very hard not to let his disappointment show on his face as she stepped purposefully over the drawings towards him and reached for the hand of the child on his left.  
"Why do you always complicate things that are really quite simple?" she scolded him. "Give my your hand, please, Michael. Don't slouch."  
So she was going. That was it. Who knew when he would see her again. at least now he knew she was still alive. The world wasn't safe for a beautiful young woman like Mary.  
But as he prepared himself for her stomping out of his life, invisible children in tow, he heard her say something.  
"One, two."  
And she jumped onto the picture and a familiar look of joy lit up her face. Bert smiled. She was staying.


	3. Jolly Holliday

Bert watched as Mary dusted herself off, presumably because she had just entered a chalk pavement picture.  
"Mary Poppins," he said, "you look beautiful."  
Mary looked up and blushed. "Do you really think so?"  
"Cross my heart you do! Like the day I met you."  
And it was true. Her dress was worn almost to the point of falling apart, her hair was tangled and clearly hadn't been washed in a long time, and the umbrella she was now holding over her shoulder like a parasol was more hole than fabric. But the way she smiled was so sweet, so innocent, so... Mary, that Bert wouldn't have traded her for all the women in the world combined.  
"You look fine, too, Bert," she said softly. Then, "you said there was a fair for the children?"  
Bert smiled. "So I did. Down the road and behind the hill, remember?"  
Mary's eyes followed the curve of Cherry Tree Lane as if watching somebody run along it away from them. For good measure, Bert called after them. "Tell them Bert sent you!"  
"Don't fall and smudge the drawing!" called Mary.  
And just like that, they were alone, both to his mind and to Mary's. He offered her his arm, which she accepted with the kind of grace of which only Mary was capable.  
He lead her into the park, feeling about ten feet off the ground. The park was the same run-down mess it had been yesterday, but somehow it seemed heavenly beautiful with Mary at his side.  
"Glorious day, no? I mean, just look at the colour of the sky!"  
"The sky's blue Bert. It's always been blue."  
"But with you here, it's much bluer than it usually is," he said with a smile. "You're always with yourself, so you wouldn't know."  
"Now Bert," she scolded, "none of your larking about."  
"I'm serious, Mary. When you're around, I feel as light as a feather."  
She shook her head in amusement. "You haven't changed a bit, have you?"  
They followed the path down to the small duck pond. Bert held out his hand to escort Mary onto a bench overlooking the quiet water.  
"Oh, honestly," she scoffed, but she accepted his hand and seated herself on the wooden bench. In his eagerness to follow her, he tripped over his own feet, only just managing to regain his balance before falling into the pond. To cover his blunder, he did a quick little waltz step, turned and gave a deep bow in Mary's direction. To his surprise, rather than laughing or mocking him, she made a show of looking over her shoulder in search of other girls - at least, Bert thought it was a show, it was hard to tell with Mary - stood up from the bench and gave him a curtsey.  
He grinned widely and felt his heartbeat quicken as he closed the gap between them and placed a hand on her waist. And then they were dancing and Bert couldn't keep the smile off his face. He felt like the luckiest man alive.  
All too soon, she pulled away and laughed at his grin. "You are lightheaded," she said, but the smile playing over her formerly stern face was so much like the Mary he used to know, that Bert knew she felt the same.  
"Come," he said, handing her back the umbrella she had propped against the bench. "I know a great place to eat."  
They walked in silence for a long time before Mary spoke.  
"You're not like other men, Bert."  
He laughed. "A vanishing breed, that's me."  
"I'm serious. You may not be high-class and educated, but you're truly noble underneath."  
He brushed off the compliment with a "common knowledge," but inside he was practically dancing.  
"You'd never even think of pressing your advantage. You're so patient and self-controlled. I know I don't have to worry about you. I'm having a grand time with you."  
"I'm having a grand time with you, too."  
She smiled and took his arm again. Bert was almost sorry to see the cafe ahead. He knew one of the waiters, and was hopeful that he would help him make Mary feel comfortable. He held out a chair for Mary at the table, then excused himself and walked towards the kitchens.  
"William!" he whispered, softly but urgently.  
A man in a fancy jacket and bow tie turned. "Bert? Is that you? I haven't seen you in ages!"  
"I know. I'm sorry. Will, I need a favour."  
William eyed him suspiciously. "What kind of favour? If you need money, don't look at me. I may not be on the streets anymore, but I'm not made of gold!"  
"No, no, nothing like that," he reassured him. "You see that woman there?"  
"The pretty little thing in the ripped coat?"  
"Yes. Her name is Mary Poppins. She's a good friend of mine, but she's... Let's just say she has a very vivid imagination, and she gets very upset when people don't go along with her fantasies."  
William's face contorted into a conspiratorial smile. "And you'd like me to give her fantasy a nudge in the right direction? See you as more than a good friend?"  
"No! No, she's just a friend! I just need you to go along with whatever she says, okay? Can you do that?"  
"She's just a friend?" he asked, turning back to look at Mary.  
"Yes. Can you help me?"  
William grinned, but kept his eyes fixed on Mary. "For you, I could do that."  
"Good. Just follow along, and if you don't know what to say, just make something up. Give her a compliment. I don't know."  
William nodded, and Bert returned to a smiling Mary at the table and sat opposite her.  
"Sorry about that," he said as William approached them with menus.  
Upon seeing him, Mary's face lit up. "Oh, look Bert!" she exclaimed. "The waiters are penguins!"  
'Penguins?' mouthed William as he handed them the menus. Bert shrugged and gave him a pleading look. He nodded.  
"Now then, what would be nice..." Mary scrutinized the menu before requesting raspberry ice with cakes and tea.  
"Order whatever you like, miss," said William. "It's on the house."  
"You're very kind," said Mary with an open smile.  
"Yes indeed," Bert said, a bit more suspiciously.  
William gave her a small bow. "Anything for you, Mary Poppins. You're our favourite person."  
"Right you are!" exclaimed Bert before William could go any further. "Best person in the world!"  
William smiled at him in a rather patronizing way. "What about Mavis?" he asked.  
Bert gave him a stern look. Mavis was a young woman he had dated back in the days before William had left his life and Mary had entered it. "She has her ways, I suppose."  
"Janice? Felicia? Lydia?" He was naming off more of his exes.  
"Charming," Bert said firmly, trying to make him stop.  
"Veronica? Millicent? Agnes? And Jane?" Mary was looking very put out by the list.  
"Yes, they're fine," said Bert from between gritted teeth. "I'm just saying that the best of all of them, the cream of the crop, is Mary Poppins and that's final." He looked over at Mary, who giggled. It was a sound he hadn't heard her make in a long time. He smiled and excused himself once more from the table.  
Once they were safely out of earshot, he turned to William.  
"What was that?" he demanded.  
William gave him an innocent look. "What? I thought she was just a friend."  
"She is, but… look, just… be a normal waiter, okay?"  
William raised his eyebrows. "I thought I was a penguin."  
Bert stared at him in annoyance. "You know what I mean. Now repeat after me: I will treat Mary like any other customer."  
"Seriously?" asked William.  
Bert grabbed him by the collar. "Say it," he said through gritted teeth.  
A look of panic entered William's eyes. He'd seen what Bert could do in their street days. "I- I will treat Mary like any other customer."  
"I will pretend to be a penguin," said Bert, still holding him tightly.  
"Bert, I-" Bert's hands tightened their grip. "Okay! Okay! I'll pretend to be a penguin!"  
Bert released him with a warning look and returned to a delighted-looking Mary who was clapping enthusiastically. He sat across from her. "Sorry about that," he said.  
"Oh no, it was wonderful," she said happily. "I never knew you were such a talented dancer!"  
So she thought he was dancing. Well, he supposed it was better than her knowing what he had actually been doing. "Thank you," he said with a smile.  
"Oh look, here comes the penguin again!" she said, looking over his shoulder.  
Bert turned to see William approaching with a bowl of raspberry ice. He placed it in front of Mary with a deep bow. He looked into her eyes with a half smile. "May I?" he asked.  
Mary stared at her food with a bashful smile as William bent again and kissed her cheek. Within moments, Bert had him by the collar and was dragging him away again. He pushed him against the far wall and held him there. "Don't you dare touch her," he said threateningly.  
"I asked first!" William insisted. "You said you weren't interested!"  
"She thinks you're a penguin!" Bert yelled.  
"I don't mind," said William with a perverted smile. "The kinky ones are always more fun."  
That was the last straw. Bert clenched his fist and punched William as hard as he could. "Never let me hear you say that again!"  
Within moments, there were arms wrapped around him, pulling him away from William and his now-bleeding nose. He shook them off. "I can walk out on my own," he said, his voice still filled with venom as he turned and followed his captor towards the door of the cafe. "If you so much as bat an eye in her direction…" he called over his shoulder to William.  
When he reached their table, he offered Mary his arm. "It's time to go," he said gently.

**Author's Note:**

> A while ago, I watched A Beautiful Mind and then immediately watched Mary Poppins. This has been brewing ever since.
> 
> If any of the mental health stuff is horribly inaccurate, somebody please tell me. I don't want to offend. I just found the idea fascinating.


End file.
